


Steep

by adularescence (cocomoraine)



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Developing Relationship, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Historical Inaccuracy, Historical References, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-War, Rosie is Mycroft's daughter!, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, The Dig AU, World War II, unbetaed because I don't want to be a bother
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:34:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29127279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cocomoraine/pseuds/adularescence
Summary: On the days leading up to World War II, a British widower asks a self-studied archeologist on digging up a series of mounds inside his property, which eventually leads to changes in all of their lives.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	1. One feet deep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Or 'The Dig' AU nobody asked for, but I did it anyway). 
> 
> Hello! It's been awhile since I last written any fanfic for that matter, and also, I've been in this fandom for so long, I've only written a fanfic for for BBC Sherlock fandom only now, after seeing the movie, "The Dig" (it's up on Netflix, if anyone's interested in seeing it, it's actually based on a true story, and is really good, in my opinion). 
> 
> This story takes inspiration from the movie, so it follows the original premise, but will deviate in many parts, as creative liberties were taken to fit the narrative for the outlined story I have in mind, especially for the main characters and their relationship progressions. Heavily influenced by the movie, both plot wise and some lines as well, so spoiler alert for people who still hasn't seen the movie yet. 
> 
> Disclaimer: this is a work of pure fiction, which uses a non fictional narrative, so, all characters and the main plot are not owned by me, BBC Sherlock, and The Dig are owned by its respective creators. No disrespect intended towards the real people as to where "The Dig" was based from. I'm only here to manipulate these to feed my delusional mind. All things I know about archeology, British military services, and others, stems from my own knowledge, and from the movie itself, so if there are any inconsistencies, I apologize, and you may point it out, so I can correct it. 
> 
> Anyway, enough rambling, y'all probably angry at me for ranting instead of telling the story. This would be a multi-chaptered one, and updates would be slow, but I would try to update more, (every weekend, char, don't make promises you can't keep, me to myself) as work can swamp me again. Unbetaed, because I don't want to be a bother, huhu. Here y'all go! 🌻

The cool wind blew and the waters were calm and glassy under the sun. A man, in his near thirties, was rowing the boat towards the other side, filled with grasslands and tall trees. Another man, who's already in his forties, judging his appearance, held on tight to his bicycle, and lowered the hat to further cover his face. Despite the obvious signs of age in his face, and hair, which is now all silver, he still looks good, and has an aura of boyish charm to him. 

He looked around, and as he saw that he's nearing the wharf towards the other side, he took a deep breath, and slowly stood up. When they neared the wharf, the older man dug around in his pocket, and gave the agreed fare to the younger one.

"Oh, thank you so much. Cheers, mate."

The man smiled at the rower, and then mounted his bicycle, riding towards a path leading to grasslands, off to a specific destination.

***

A house, or some may say, a manor, greets the man as he slows down and stops near the door. He fixes his tie, which was rumpled a little during his near twenty minute ride from the river to the house, and his hat. Taking another breath, he knocked on the wooden door. 

_This would be any other work, and any other way to earn some, Greg._

A woman, dressed in simple yet elegant clothes, but not that of the nobility, opened the door. Her deep amber eyes focused on the silver haired man, an inquisitive look upon her young, beautiful face. 

"Good morning. May I help you?"

"Hello. I am Gregory Lestrade. Mr. Holmes asked for me", he drawled in a deep accent.

The woman smiled. "Yes, I do believe so. Please wait here, I will call Mr. Holmes."

The door softly shut, and Gregory Lestrade is left looking around the manor.

The sun was shining, but there's still the hint of cold air typical in a county such as this. He rubs his foot, clad in brown, worn oxfords, in the soil, racketing his mind on what type of soil is dominant in this area.

The door opened, and a man, with a receding hairline, but reddish when hit by light, pale face, pointed nose, and the most grey eyes Gregory has ever seen, stepped out. He was wearing brown cargo pants, brown field shoes, a jumper, which is now being covered by an auburn cardigan, as the man pulled it to himself, sheltering him from the morning cold. 

The man smiled, upon seeing Gregory. "Shall we take a look at it, Mr. Lestrade?"

***

_"How long have you known him, Mycroft Holmes?"_

_"Few months back. I heard him through Alicia Smallwood. Apparently, Smallwood recommended me to Holmes after he told the heiress about a dilemma he's facing."_

_"Posh boys and their problems, so, what is it?"_

_"He's not that posh. I heard he owns only a handful of land down at Suffolk, and a manor. Also, he's not a boy anymore, he's already got a daughter."_

_"Hmm. Where's the wife?"_

_Gregory shrugged a shoulder, his eyes never leaving the book he's reading._

_"Dead. He's been a widower for nearly three years."_

_"That's sad. So, will you take it?"_

_"The what?"_

_"The offer? I do think Smallwood has already told you what this Holmes needs, because otherwise, you wouldn't be talking about this subject now to me."_

_Gregory smiled, then looked at the woman in front of him._

_"You know me too well, Sally."_

***

"What makes you drawn to archeology, Mr. Lestrade?"

The two men keep walking on the seemingly vast grasslands owned by Holmes, a soft billowing air around, and the sun shining merrily above them. 

"I've been digging ever since I was a kid who knew how to hold the trowel, sir. Everything else I know comes from my innate desire to learn more about different topics such as geology. I've always been digging. Until now."

Holmes looked at him, his face holding a placid smile. "Why is that? Why do you always keep digging? Are you not afraid that you'll soon run out of soil to dig, and discover that there's nothing underneath?"

They keep walking, a good distance between them. "I don't exactly know, sir. Maybe I was keen on searching for a treasure."

"Did you ever find that treasure, on one of your many escapades?"

They stopped at a mound, a little three, to five feet tall. Holmes was looking at him, the smile now gone from his face. Gregory turned to him, before fixing his gaze on the mound in front of them.

"Well, if I did manage to find that treasure, Mr. Holmes, I wouldn't have stepped foot in this little town of yours." He flashed Holmes a tentative smile. 

"Maybe this mound holds what I'm looking for. Who knows? I'm just a self taught excavator."

***

_"You know, Mr. Holmes. Most people would lead this to museum people."_

_"I'm not most people, am I?"_

_Gregory laughed, a small one. Holmes' lips quirked upwards,_

_"Right. What are you thinking we're going to find?"_

_"I don't know, truly, if I'm going to be honest and frank about it. Some people may say I know everything, but when it comes to things buried six feet under the ground, I do admit I struggle a little. I was drawn to archeology due to my father, I do think you've heard of him."_

_"Yes. Arthur Holmes. A great man."_

_"I was fascinated in the history some small objects seem to hold, those objects surviving the force of nature, buried under, while the rest of the world falls away. They hold memories, cultures, eons away from where we are now."_

_Gregory followed, Holmes' back his constant view, as he led him to where the proposed excavation site will be._

_"Alicia recommended you, saying that there have been numerous finds which ended up in the British Museum who were actually unearthed by you. Despite your lack of, forgive me if I may trespass, formal education."_

_"It's quite alright, and it's the truth anyway, Mr. Holmes. Whatever I have learned, was a result of years of teaching myself, and trying to sate the thirst to further understand the ways and workings of our own history, as humans, we all have different experiences."_

_"You're probably better at this, than me, Mr. Lestrade."_

_"We're both here now, aren't we, Mr. Holmes. We are both here now because we both know, and understand, that something underneath this earth lies something great. Something that the world needs to see."_

_"What do you think is under these mounds, Mr. Lestrade?"_

_"We could be standing in a graveyard, Mr. Holmes. Someone else's graveyard. Or a mound made by past robbers whenever they knew they cannot take their stash with them, for fear of losing them altogether."_

_Holmes smiled, and turned to Gregory. It was a soft smile, something Gregory thinks suits his face._

***

The sun shines in the middle of the sky. Two men were pulling up a wagon on the dry path crossing the grasslands, towards the village.

The sunglow bathes the sitting room. Anthea, the head of the household, was quietly setting up the tea set in front of them. She bows, and silently leaves them. 

Gregory stares at the profile of his new employer, Mycroft Holmes. He might know a few things about him, but he still remains an enigma. 

Although smiles were easily exchanged between them, during their earlier assessment of the mounds, he immediately noticed that those said smiles never reached Holmes' eyes.

The grey depths, which seem cold, but there's an underlying emotion in them. Gregory still can't pinpoint what it is.

Footfalls, of a young child, echoes on the hallway, Holmes immediately looked towards the doorway, where a young girl went in, wearing a silk moorea blue dress, a peach cloth tied up on her neck, appearing as a cape of some sorts, and is wearing a crudely made tin foil hat. She was holding what seems to be a miniature space ship, as she ran toward Holmes.

Holmes immediately catches her, an automatic smile adorning his face. Gregory noticed.

_The smile reaches his eyes now._

_Did I say, or did something earlier that he didn't like?_

He was pulled out of his musings when his ears reached the conversation between the man in front of him, and his daughter.

The resemblance was uncanny. Same pointed nose, reddish hair, but her eyes are of deep sea green. Also, there are freckles on her cheeks. Gregory didn't notice any freckles on Holmes' face during their walk.

"Rosie. Darling. What did I tell you about playing around when Papa is talking with visitors?"

"Sorry, Papa. I was just so immersed on the flight track of my space ship, it was supposed to be going to the space's largest and most powerful light source."

"And you think I'm that one?"

"Yes you are, Papa. You're the brightest and most powerful light source in the solar system." Holmes laughed. It was kind of a music to Gregory's ears.

"Isn't it that the Sun, but I'll take your loving words nonetheless, dear."

Gregory smiled. And laughed a little.

"Oh dear, where are my manners. Rosie, this is Mr. Gregory Lestrade."

The girl faced him, a bright smile on her lips, "Are you here to dig up the mounds? Papa has been talking about having those mounds dug to find if there are any treasures underneath."

"If me and your father comes up with a sound agreement on how to do it, then yes, I'm here to dig up the mounds."

"Great! I always want to know what is underneath those. Maybe a spaceship hidden by aliens."

"My apologies. She's recently been interested in astronomy and everything it has to offer."

"Oh. Well, isn't that amazing for a girl of your age."

"Do you also like astronomy, Mr. Lestrade?"

"Yes. I do own a telescope, you see."

"That's so good! Can you show me how to use it? And also, can I go star gazing with it? The night skies are really clear around here, if it isn't raining."

"Hush, Rosie, darling, you're already imposing on poor Mr. Lestrade over there."

"Nah, it's perfectly alright, Mr. Holmes."

"We do still have a lot to talk about, now, go find Anthea, Rosie. It's time for your midday bath."

"But, Papa-"

"Rosie, dear, Mr. Lestrade doesn't have all day, you can chatter him up some other time."

With a soft kiss at Rosie's forehead, Holmes released the girl, and she slowly exited the room, giving Gregory a wave, and a quiet, "Good day, Mr. Lestrade."

Holmes broke from looking at his daughter's retreating back, and turned to Gregory. 

"Apologies for that."

***

Gregory remembers a day when Mike Stamford, from the Ipswich Museum, would go out of his way to convince him to go work with them.

"It's a Roman villa, Gregory. Far more important than what Mr. Holmes has. What was his basis on that excavation? His feelings? _A Roman villa_ , Gregory. A Roman villa!"

"Yes yes, I do understand it's implications, Stamford. No need to mention it thrice in one sentence."

"So will you work with us? Instead of this little project of Mr. Holmes?"

Gregory turned to Stamford, smiled, then mounted on his bike.

"No. I'm going to take a risk on Mr. Holmes' feelings."

He road away, leaving a dumbstruck Stamford behind. 

***

_"One pound, and fifty pence, per week. You're going to stay over at Mrs. Hudson's, which is not very far from the site. Food, water, bed, all is provided there. That's all I can offer."_

_"I'm sorry, Mr. Holmes. I am not taking it."_

***

Gregory was traversing the road towards the wharf where he was dropped off awhile ago, when a car overtaken him, and stopped in front. Gregory stopped at the side of the car, and the driver handed a letter to him. 

"From Mr. Holmes, Sir Lestrade."

Gregory opened the paper. He smiled. 

"Tell Mr. Holmes, tomorrow, Eight o'clock, sharp."

***

_"Two pounds per week. And two of my men would be bringing the shed to serve as shelter during inclement weather. Also, Mr. Dimmock and Mr. Anderson would be helping you as an extra set of hands. Mrs. Hudson would still provide the food, water, and lodging during your working days._

_Forgive me, Mr. Lestrade. It's the only thing I am willing to expand on."_

_"Oh, two pounds is more agreeable to me, Mr. Holmes. I don't work for anything lower."_

***

_tbc._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if there's any inconsistencies, so I may correct it! Please do be patient, I'll try to update this as much as I can, between work and all, because fanfiction is lifer, and still can't believe I'm back to fanfic writing again, all thanks to me rewatching Sherlock on Netflix, look at me back again in this hellhole in the year of our Lord 2021, lol.
> 
> Constructive criticisms are welcome. Please do say them by commenting down below, and my inbox is also open, for suggestions, criticisms, or if you want to shout abuse at me. I'm also at Tumblr: @cocomoraine. Hmu if you just need someone to rant about Sherlock or Mycroft, the only friend I can talk about these moved away, so. 
> 
> Till then! 🌻


	2. Two feet deep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BBC Sherlock and The Dig are owned by its respective owners, and none of it belongs to me. No disrespect intended for the real people behind a non fictional story used to feed my delusional mind. Creative liberties were done to fit the desired narrative. Unbeated, because I don't want to be a bother. If there are any inconsistencies (my knowledge of archeology is limited to what we studied in geology classes; on British military services, are then limited to what the movie told me) please don't hesitate to point it out. 
> 
> Here y'all go! 🌻

The sun was keeping them warm, but soon enough, the tiredness was growing on them. Gregory keeps digging, now creating a narrow pit, and is soon kneeling to see if he can undercover anything on the dirt. 

"You see any treasure now, mate?" Anderson asks him. Gregory stood up, cracking his knuckles and stretching his back as he went. 

"Afraid not.We still have a lot of earth to uncover if we even want to find anything of importance."

The men kept doing their work, and soon, Anderson asked them if they needed anything, as he was heading up the manor to get some refreshments. Dimmock volunteered to go with him, to serve as a break from the tedious, and tiring job they're doing. Gregory answered on the negative, and returned to his work, soon left alone on the mounds.

He was immersed in figuring how to further deepen the pit, he didn't notice Mycroft Holmes approaching.

"Seems progress has been made, Mr. Lestrade."

Gregory instantly turned, and went out of the pit, to join Holmes' side. "I'm glad we're progressing, albeit slowly. There's a limit on what three men and shovels can do, sadly."

Holmes slowly walked towards the shallow pit, and touched the earth, looking fascinated even if there was nothing yet of importance in front of him. 

"It's not that safe down there, Mr. Holmes. We're still building up the support for the pit, and the earth is definitely loose enough."

"Oh?" Holmes slowly emerged and went back to Gregory's side. "I do hope that despite my innate desire to know what's under that mound, you wouldn't compromise your safety, Mr. Lestrade."

Gregory chuckled, and went inside the narrow pit. "I always make sure that things are in place before anything else, Mr. Holmes. Rest assured that everything is safe, and will be made safe in order to sate both of our curiosities."

"Of course you're also curious as to what's underneath."

"Yes. I always wondered if my feelings will lead to anything conclusive, or it will again fail me."

Gregory was supposed to turn towards Mr. Holmes, but suddenly, a handful of dirt collided with his elbow.

It all happened too fast after that. 

***

_A series of muffled shouts_

_"Mr. Lestrade? Mr. Lestrade? Oh no, please get help!"_

_There's nothing but darkness, Gregory closed his eyes._

_Suddenly, it's becoming a challenge to breathe._

***

Mycroft Holmes, clearly forgetting the lighter shade of clothes he chose to wear for the day, dug down on the earth, using only his fingers. Soon enough, Dimmock and Anderson rushed by his side, and were also frantically digging. 

"Mr. Lestrade, oh, Mr. Lestrade is buried, we have to hurry!"

Anthea rushed into the scene, leaving a dumbstruck Rosie a few meters from the site, and proceeded to help in their frantic rescue of Gregory Lestrade. 

More people, who are villagers from the town who are just passing by, also lend their hands to help in the rescue. Mycroft gets more frantic as each second passes, without them reaching Gregory's body. 

They soon reached Gregory, who had passed out, the men slowly carried his body out of the pit, towards the outside, and laid him down on the soft grass. 

Anthea hugged a crying Rosie, who instantly bursted into tears when she saw who was unearthed in that frantic digging of her father and numerous others. 

Mycroft immediately did chest compressions on Gregory's seemingly lifeless body, and also did mouth to mouth resuscitation. 

"Come on, _Gregory_ , please, _Gregory_."

Anderson immediately handed Mycroft a metal can filled with water. After doing a third mouth to mouth resuscitation, he poured the water on Gregory's open mouth. He suddenly coughed out the water, and is now heaving at his side. 

"Oh Gregory, thank God."

Gregory, still in shock and a little disoriented, turned to the baritone, who was ragged and is heavy with breaths. 

He saw Mycroft Holmes, dirtied, from head to toe, looking at him, grey eyes shining with unshed tears, and a tired yet genuine smile. 

Although his throat hurts a little bit, Gregory swallowed a lump that he thinks wasn't because of his near death experience.

***

"Please tell me you're alright now, Mr. Lestrade."

Gregory refocused, after staring at an indeterminate point over Mr. Holmes' shoulder. He saw the gentleman looking at him, quietly calculating if there was any damage after his ordeal, other than shock and trauma, of course. 

He gripped the mug of tea in his earth stained hands, he felt awkward and awful, sitting in Mycroft Holmes' sitting room, all dirty, probably messing up the cushions. 

"Well, albeit from the seemingly short trip from the land of living to the other side, I am otherwise alright, all thanks to you, Mr. Holmes."

_"Mycroft."_

"I'm sorry?"

"I was panicking. When I saw you getting buried alive, and then, the next second, you're gone, I panicked. I thought, I am killing a man just for a feeling I had over what could be underneath six feet in the ground. I thought, you, _Gregory_ , are now in danger because of me. I deeply apologize."

"None of it's your fault, Mr. Holmes, the earth was clearly unstable."

"Mycroft. We already shared a near death experience, we could at least give each other the courtesy of calling our names."

"But, Mr. Holmes-"

"No, Gregory. You are not bearing any disrespect over calling me by my name." Mycroft ruefully smiled, his grip on the china tightening.

"You saved my life."

Mycroft turned to him, his grey eyes holding some sort of emotions. Gregory smiled, a soft, careful one. 

"You were the one who brought me back. I owe you not only what we would be discovering under those mounds, but my life, Mycroft. For that, I am eternally grateful."

"Did you ever see anything, when you're out? Or when you were under?"

"I saw my grandfather. He was scolding me for going through an unsupported pit. I was supposed to go with him, I think. He taught me everything I know now about digging and archeology you know. But there was another voice, calling my name. At first, I thought it was Sally, but then, it was a man's voice, the very same voice who led me to those mounds, your calm baritone. It was you, I heard you calling for me, Mycroft. And I knew, I had to go back."

Mycroft slowly put the china down the table. He tentatively reached out a hand towards Gregory's dirt stricken arms. Grey eyes met dark brown, Gregory nodded slowly.

The pressure, and warmth of Mycroft's hand on his arm, was enough to fully drive away the coldness Gregory has been feeling ever since he found himself falling down and getting buried by the earth.

***

"Those mounds are not going to dig themselves up, Mrs. Hudson."

"You nearly got yourself buried alive, and gave Mr. Holmes a heart pain yesterday, yet you still want to keep digging."

"We do both want to know what's hiding under. See you in the evening, Mrs. Hudson!"

Mrs. Hudson watched Gregory as he rode away towards Holmes' manor. She shook her head and continued drying the dishes.

"The lot of them, both stubborn. They will definitely get along well." She smiled.

***

"And then, the evil aliens tried to kidnap the Queen, so that the King will be forced to give up his people so that the aliens would rule over them."

"Were the aliens successful in kidnapping the Queen?"

"Oh yes, they were. The King was heartbroken upon losing his Queen, but, before being taken away by the aliens, the Queen was given a minute to talk to the King, a final farewell, as Anthea would say."

"Hmm. And what did the Queen told the King?"

"The Queen told the King that he shouldn't let the aliens take over the citizens, because that would mean that it's the end of their humanity, I wasn't able to fully grasp that idea, but it is what Papa told me as the significance of the King not giving up in the face of defeat against the aliens. And that, he, the King should focus on finding the way to defeat the aliens, together with the help of his people, he shouldn't worry about her, because the Queen can take care of herself, and what's important is maintaining their stance."

"Your Papa is right, and the Queen also. It's important to know that even if all hopes are lost, and everything seems bleak, there is still a sliver of hope underneath all the darkness, if you only know how and where to look."

"Like you and Papa digging these mounds up. Even if it seems there's nothing underneath these, the hope you both hold will keep you going."

Gregory smiled, and ruffled Rosie's hair. 

"You got your father's wit, you know."

Rosie smiled. 

"Rosie."

Anthea's melodious voice echoed throughout the fields. She slowly approaches the two, a smile directed to both of them. 

"Mr. Lestrade."

"Gregory is fine you know, you've been seeing me for nearly a week now."

"I'm afraid I don't have the same privileges as Mr. Holmes. Come now, Rosie. It's time for you to do your reading."

Rosie turned to Gregory. "Promise me you'll take me to the cosmos, Mr. Lestrade."

"Of course, young lady."

Rosie joined Anthea, then beginning the long trek towards the manor. 

"That kid, she did get her father's loquaciousness." Anderson continued hitting a hard part of the earth.

"Yer right, I reckon. I am amazed Greg here is taking it all in stride." Dimmock wiped his face, the sun highlighting his young features.

"She does talk a lot, but in a more deeper sense than most girls of her age do. Mycroft taught her well."

"First name basis eh, that's what dying does to you, and when saved by the mighty Mycroft Holmes." 

"Oi! Are you insinuating something, eh, Anderson."

"Whatever your brain wants you to think, Greg." Dimmock answered for Anderson. 

Gregory kept digging, a certain nobleman on the forefront of his head. 

***

Lestrade was riding in his bicycle, and passed through Holmes' manor, now going to Mrs. Hudson's residence after a tiring day of digging. 

Mycroft was primly shutting the front door as Gregory passed.

"Gregory."

"Mycroft."

“Anything else I should know? Other than the fact that my daughter may have talked all of your ears off.”

A small chuckle escaped from Gregory’s lips. Mycroft smiled, and swallowed an imaginary lump in his throat.

“She does have a lot of stories to tell. Yet, she thinks too deeply for girls of her age.”

“She does become talkative around people, but only to those she’s comfortable with. I’m afraid she already formed some sort of attachment to you.”

“It’s quite alright, Mycroft. She’s vastly intelligent, curious, and overall, a good mannered young lady. I think she all got that from you.” 

“Does she?”

Silence pressed between the two men, as grey eyes again met with brown ones. Gregory took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for something he still doesn’t know yet.

Mycroft smiled, a twinkle echoing in his grey depths. Gregory’s breath hitched.

“Would you like to have dinner with me?”

Gregory didn’t need to think about it even for one second.

“Yes. Of course, Mycroft.”

***

Gregory has a smile on his face until he arrived at Mrs. Hudson's residence, and he's nearly bouncing with excitement to tell the kind lady he will not be having dinner there, when Mrs. Hudson spoke first.

"You have a surprise upstairs."

Perplexed, Gregory went to his bedroom, and found Sally sitting at his bed. As he got in the room, she turned, and gave him a sunny smile. 

"Gregory. It's nice to finally hear you in person."

She was holding numerous unopened envelopes.

Gregory took a deep breath.

***

Mycroft was reading the papers regarding the estate, when Anthea entered the room, silently regarding him with a calm facade.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Holmes. Mr. Lestrade is unavailable for dinner tonight. He sends his apologies."

"Thank you, Anthea. You may leave."

The door shut with a soft click. Mycroft closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. 

He clutched at his chest. 

_It's starting._

***

"I told you, I'm busy with everything that has been happening here. When I go home, I'm either dead beat tired, or still have to help Mrs. Hudson around, so I didn't got the time to write back to you."

"You never even opened my letters, Greg."

Both of them walked, arm in arm, so far, that they already reached the manor grounds of the Holmeses. 

"For that, I deeply apologize, Sally. But I am glad that you still remember sending me letters, and that you are well."

They stopped walking, Sally let go of Gregory's left arm, to face him. 

"You've been so focused on this project. Or focused on him."

"What are you talking about, Sally?"

"Don't lie to me, Gregory. The only reason you never even opened my letters is because you are spending too much time, not only on your job here, but also spending much of your time with Mycroft Holmes."

"Don't be ridiculous, Sally. Mycroft and I only talk to discuss the progress of the excavation, and him to check whether we manage to find something already underneath the earth."

Sally gracefully raised an eyebrow. "Mycroft?"

Gregory realized the implication, and blushed lightly. He remained mum.

Sally decided to let it slide. "I worry about you constantly, Greg. Just give me assurance that you are doing well here."

"I am. I am sorry for causing you much unnecessary worry, Sally. This won't happen again."

"Come on. Take me back to Mrs. Hudson's. I will miss my ride."

"Are you sure you don't want to stay the night? It's getting a little bit late."

"I do have some business to attend to in London tomorrow morning. I am afraid it cannot wait."

Gregory slowly approaches Sally, and slowly enveloped her in his arms. Sally returned the embrace.

"Take care, Sally."

Sally pulled away, to look at Gregory straight in the eye. "Whatever you are doing here, or planning to do, Greg, _be careful_."

***

Mycroft watched from the large windows the silhouette of Gregory, and a woman embracing, then talking some more, and walking back to Mrs. Hudson's. He swallowed a lump in his throat, and glanced at his shoes.

The burning sensation in his heart didn't stop since awhile ago. Not that painful, bearable.

_Deep breaths, Mycroft. Don't let it get to you._

_Breath with me, Mycroft._

_One._

_Two_

_Three._

_Inhale._

_Exhale._

_Slowly. Right. Slow, yet steady, Mycroft_

Mycroft closed his eyes and he can now perfectly see dark, curly hair, a creased forehead, sharp cheekbones, and azure eyes that shone with acute brilliance.

_Brother mine._

***

Rosie put down her napkin, and then glanced at Mycroft, who was still sipping his morning tea.

"May I be excused, Papa? I really do want to read that new book you gave me last night about constellations. So that I know if we will be able to see some tonight when Mr. Lestrade brings and shows me how to use his telescope."

"Of course, dear."

Rosie got up from her chair, pressed a kiss to his cheek, and went out of the room. 

Mycroft placed down the cup.

He grasped at his chest. 

_Not now._

Anthea, bless her soul, quick as ever, went by his side.

"Shall I call the doctor, Mr. Holmes? These episodes are getting frequent."

"How did you know-" Mycroft managed to choke out from his painful breaths

Anthea smiled, but with a tinge of sadness. "I have my ways, Mr. Holmes."

"Please do call him, Anthea. Thank you."

***

"You think too much, Mr. Holmes."

"I do, don't I?"

The doctor, an older man nearing his sixties, the only doctor in this part of the town, smiled sadly at Mycroft. Pity. _They always look at me and see and feel nothing but pity._

"This sickness of yours, it's triggered by too much mental exertion and by overworking yourself, Mr. Holmes. Please, for the sake of your health, and your daughter, please do try not to think too much, on the estate, on the ongoing excavation, on the current events."

"You mean the looming war that's upon us because our government is too stubborn?"

"Well, also that. It's not like you're going to be sent off anytime soon. With a condition such as yours, and being the only legal guardian of Miss Rosamund Holmes, you will not be needing to be in the frontlines anytime soon. Please take care of yourself, Mr. Holmes. And do try to rest more."

"I can't make any promises, Doctor."

***

_"Where's Mycroft?"_

_"In the study, doing some matters of the estate."_

_A soft knock._

_"Come in."_

_"Mycroft."_

_He still looks radiant._

_Why am I even bothering._

_"You need to see this."_

***

Gregory can finally keep a mental note in his mind, of an achievement he never saw coming.

It's hitting two birds with one stone.

One: their discovery of the remains of seemingly a massive ship, Gregory thinks it might be Anglo-Saxon in age. 

Two: rendering Mycroft Holmes speechless.

"Mr. Lestrade, I-" Mycroft managed to breath out after an alarming almost ten minutes of just gaping on their discovery. Dimmock and Anderson stood nearby, still unable to believe what they managed to unearth.

"Looks like your feeling was right after all, Mycroft."

The widower looked at him, then suddenly broke into a smile so genuine, it took Gregory's breath away.

"Yes, I, thank you."

"Thank you for trusting my feelings."

_Slowly._

_Gently._

The noise of an aircraft above them resonated, a reminder of an impending doom, but Gregory's ears are ringing not because of the noise of the planes, but the sound of his heart hammering in his chest.

***

"Thank you for trusting my feelings."

Mycroft cannot bear to see Gregory staring at him with those eyes, he turns his look back to what's in front of him.

It took a sheer force of will for Mycroft's voice not to leak of any emotion when he thanked Gregory for trusting him enough to go dig just based on his feelings.

He resisted the urge to grasp his chest, as to feel the pain that never seemed to go away, and the sound of the airplanes above them.

His ears were ringing, both from the reminder of the upcoming war, the time continuously ticking by, and his heart, no matter how weak it is, and how much pain it produces for him every single day, which is now beating rapidly. 

_Slowly._

_Gently._

_I couldn't possibly have._

_He's already committed._

Mycroft felt a phantom pain in his chest. He shrugs it off as the pain he's used to always having.

It's definitely not a pain caused by his own thoughts.

***

The next day opened with Gregory, Anderson, and Dimmock carefully cleaning off the iron rivets of the ship, without trying to break anything. 

The sounds of talking reached Gregory's ears, and when he turned, he recognized Mike Stamford's nervous gait, together with an old man, and a woman. 

"Sir, clearly, Ipswich Museum has the concrete plans to carefully-"

Stamford's never got to finish his sentence, as the older man, with blonde, now greying hair raised his hand. The three of them stopped to where Gregory's working. 

"Gentlemen. Miss."

The woman, who's beauty is actually breathtaking, Gregory did a second take, smiled at him, and then, he once again focused on Stamford.

"How can I help you?"

Before Stamford can open his mouth, the older man beat him to it, by saying, "Ipswich Museum will not be taking over this burial site."

He then turned to Gregory. "My name is Charles Augustus Magnussen. Here with me is also a renowned archeologist, Miss Irene Adler. We're from the British Museum."

"And?"

Irene Adler gave him a cursory glance, as if trying to read his mind, a small smile in her lips, but didn't say anything. Charles Augustus Magnussen laughed, a _mocking_ one. Stamford looked apologetic.

"This site, the discovery it holds, is of high cultural importance. With the war looming over, this site needs to be instantly addressed, and whatever artifacts it has to offer. We all know what happens once the war starts, every excavation has to be stopped. I am no stranger to you, Mr. Lestrade, I do hear a lot about you and your previous archeological escapades, Ipswich Museum over there owes a lot to your digging."

Charles smiled, but fixed a look at him. "As much we are grateful for your kind assistance for uncovering such a discovery, I'm afraid it would be better for the long run if this will be left to the hands of people who are trained for this kind of thing. No offense to you, and your lack of formal education."

Gregory's hands balled into fists. Irene's smile dropped. Stamford swallowed.

"What does Mr. Holmes says about this?"

"I'm very sure Mr. Holmes is amenable to such arrangement, as he's a man of order himself."

Charles took an envelope out of his pocket, and unfolded it, then showed it to Gregory.

"By an official order from the Office of the Works, I am now taking over this site and it's next plan of activity. Thank you for your service, Gregory Lestrade."

The wind blew, and another plane crossed at the sky. 

_tbc_.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day, to those who want to celebrate it, even though it's just a holiday made by capitalists to monetize the idea of celebrating love, even though love should be celebrated everyday, hehez. 
> 
> We'll be welcoming more Scorpios and Sagittarius in a few months. Please leave a comment if you seen any inconsistencies, or if you just want to shout out abuse at me, my inbox is always open, I'm also at Tumblr: @cocomoraine. 
> 
> Till next time! 
> 
> Ps: please do practice safe sex! 🤗


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